


ten seconds

by bitterbeets (ginnydear)



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Hugs, M/M, and it’s platonic, well one hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 13:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17550557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnydear/pseuds/bitterbeets
Summary: prompt: “i want a fic where tommy and lovett share an amorous, surprisingly passionate hug.“





	ten seconds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nervousbakedown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nervousbakedown/gifts).



> “i want a fic where tommy and lovett share an amorous, surprisingly passionate hug. only the barest hint of them possibly having feelings for one another. no kissing,no banter. just an intimate hug, a single moment drawn out into 1,000+ words. on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
> 
> keep it secret. no harm is meant in writing this. i’m aware this is fiction. the usual.

* * *

He’s -- warm.

Lovett’s waist feels small where Tommy’s arms end up settling, tightening enough to feel where his baggy shirt ends and his skin begins. The last lingering traces of his cologne fill Tommy’s nostrils as their chests press together, nose resting right above his ear. The curls of his hair tickle Tommy’s nose and he scrunches it slightly.

Lovett’s shoulders are tense for a moment when they step into each others spaces, but then they relax as Tommy keeps him close, his nose tucking down slightly into the hollow created by the flex of Tommy’s arms. It’s cold, maybe from the weird cold spell that’s settled over LA, or maybe from the manufactured cold air on the plane. It warms against Tommy’s skin and makes the hair on the back of Tommy’s neck stand up.

And then he tucks his nose in further, somehow getting closer than before, and Tommy’s nose glides along soft hair until his nose isn’t touching Lovett’s head at all, just his cheek and jaw, that’s how far Lovett’s buried his face in Tommy’s neck. Everything about him smells stronger now, close in a way that’s distinctly more than just “friendly.”

Lovett’s shirt is soft under Tommy’s hands as he spreads them, opening his closed fists to lay flat against the expanse of Lovett’s shirt. One of his pinkies grazes the top of Lovett’s jeans. He slides his right arm up, only slightly, until his fingers can play in the base of Lovett’s hair.

It’s then that Tommy feels one of Lovett’s hands on the back of his neck, applying the gentlest of pressure, right above the spot Tommy rubs all the time. A couple of his fingers fluff the back of his hair. He turns his face into Tommy’s neck, lips resting just above Tommy’s pulse point. He takes a deep breath, what feels like the first breath he’s taken since he wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck, ran his nose along the line of Tommy’s collarbone, melted into Tommy’s embrace.

Tommy lets air back into his lungs and he remembers why he was holding his breath. Lovett smells -- he smells good. Tommy’s never thought anything about the way Lovett smells. He’s smelled him in passing at the gym, or at work, or at one of their houses or -- he knows what Lovett smells like in various scenarios. But this, the intimacy of being able to smell his shampoo (it’s fruity almost), and the natural smell of his skin, is so much more than anything Tommy ever thought he’d distinctly know.

One of them shifts, Tommy’s too focused on the hair against his cheek to know who, and the muscles under Lovett’s shirt move. They flex under Tommy’s hands where he’s holding him close. Something about feeling the muscles move, the glide of his ultra soft shirt over what’s probably also very soft skin, has Tommy’s brain blanking on him and his stomach fluttering oddly.

Because he’s never -- he’s never thought about Lovett in any real way other than platonic, other than as his friend or his business partner, but now. Now he knows how Lovett smells, and the feel of his chest when he breathes, and the feel of his muscles moving under his hands, and --

Tommy’s not sure when his eyes closed, but they’re closed, and he feels Lovett’s fingers press in a little harder, just so, and he drops his head down until his bottom lip is right against Lovett’s ear. Drops it down so if he were to exhale, the warmth of his breath would spread over Lovett’s ear, and that’s just something he didn’t really think about.

Because then Lovett exhales and warm breath hits the sensitive skin of his neck, and it’s not like Lovett’s supposed to know that his friend has a sensitive neck. Or maybe he does, because Tommy shivers in a way that’s not from the cold. He isn’t cold anyway, not with Lovett attempting to mold his body into Tommy’s. There’s no way he could be cold. It’s not even that cold in LA to begin with. Tommy’s felt cold in his life, and the way he shivers as Lovett’s soft breath travels over his skin has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the cold.

Tommy exhales then, mouth open slightly, and he knows the second Lovett feels it. He shudders, somewhere deep in his chest, but it radiates out into every part of his body in such a way that causes Tommy to feel his stomach muscles quiver. It’s intoxicating, the reactive property a simple breath can have, especially on someone as reactive as Jon Lovett attempting to disappear in a hug.

When all of the air has left his lungs, Tommy turns his head in slightly, his nose nudging against the side of Lovett’s head. Moving his left hand so it rests on the small of Lovett’s back, Tommy lets his other hand drift down so it’s expanded across Lovett’s shoulder blades. It pulls Lovett in closer, his face disappearing deeper into Tommy’s neck. Tommy can feel each of his eyelashes now. Well, maybe not every individual one, but the sensation of feeling Lovett’s eyelids flutter against the base of his neck has Tommy’s skin breaking out in goosebumps.

He squeezes, once, and then loosens his arms enough in a way that gives Lovett the option to pull back. Just enough ease that Lovett can stay if he wants and not feel like Tommy wants him gone, or leave and not feel as if Tommy wanted more. It’s a very delicate balance, but when he feels Lovett’s hands slide along his shoulders, he knows he’s made the correct calculation. Lovett’s hands cup the back of Tommy’s neck, one of them higher than the other and warm on the back of Tommy’s hair. Lovett holds him there, face against Lovett’s head, nose now against the tip of his warm ear.

They breathe in together, ribcages pressing together, shoulders moving in unison, the beat of their pulses syncing for just a moment, and Tommy feels the final vestiges of stress and anxiety from navigating LAX vanish from where it took shape in the muscles of his shoulders. He feels the way Lovett leans a little heavier on him, knows instinctually that he’s letting go of some of his travel stress. The long lines, uncomfortable seats, sitting around. It’s gone for just a moment.

And then, as if they’d planned it, they step back at the same time. Tommy’s already smiling when Lovett looks up at him, stepping back onto his heels and adjusting his shirt. No more than 10 seconds have passed.

“Have fun in New York man?” Tommy asks, and Lovett’s eyes light up.

“Yes, and do I have the story for you.”

“One other than one you already told me about the two dudes with Boston accents who were arguing outside a Sbarro?”

“Tommy, I have many interesting stories.”

Tommy picks up his suitcase even though Lovett’s capable of doing it himself. He jerks his head towards the exit doors.

“Alright, tell me as we go find the car.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> i’m on tumblr as theotherapps. shoutout to aspiringhooligans for posting the random text post that spawned this. love a good created outlet.


End file.
